


Unexpected Company

by astridthecrafty



Category: Thunderbirds, thunderbirds are go
Genre: F/M, Some Swearing, not quite smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridthecrafty/pseuds/astridthecrafty
Summary: Scott gets some unexpected company. Rated T, one swear word in chapter 4 is borderline higher. Updated and edited 25/07/17





	1. Scott

The angry grey sky on the opposite side of the giant sash window was a stark contrast to the interior lighting of the converted Georgian building. Whilst inside was wonderfully warm, a quick glance outside made me shiver. Fresh out the shower, the morning had been spent trussed up in a suit, buttoned collar and tie, and the idea of wandering around in just a towel had felt quite free ... or at least it had until I'd seen the British weather.

The overzealous toaster popped, almost ejecting the bagel it had been warming. As I set about spreading it with butter a weird sound came from the walk in pantry adjoining the kitchen. I didn't pay much attention to it as the refurbished apartment seemed to have a life of it's own. On several occasions I'd head a creak or a groan. Odd sounds that after much investigating I had to put down to the original building. I chuckled to myself at the thought that Alan would have claimed ghosts.

Then it came again ... the sound of grinding rusty metal followed by a thud.

I turned, cautiously, towards the noise coming from through the pantry door just in time to see the latch holding the door of the dumbwaiter ping off across the room and a blur of limbs come rolling out of the abandoned old-fashioned lift in there ... a quaint invention from days past, that had been used to haul things from lower floor up or delivering food from the lower level staff. I was surprised it still worked.

And even more surprised that it seemed someone had found another use for it.

As the form of a woman came hurtling out from the small confines. My brain briefly brain registered long legs, blonde hair, wearing something navy, and covered in dust and cobwebs. Mostly my reaction was a straightforward _WTF?????_

Her momentum was so great she'd ended up starfished belly down on the floor. As entrances go it wasn't the most dignified, rather surprising and almost certainly illegal. Either she had a damned good reason for being in there, which frankly was unlikely, or she'd just broken into the apartment where I was staying.

Now, on occasion women have done some pretty crazy things to get my attention, shown up at my door wearing just stilettos and a smile, as example. Not unusual for a guy with wealth and public profile who was also - I'll modestly admit - not uneasy on the eye. But none had ever gone quite this far. At once I dismissed the idea that the blonde had seduction in mind.

Best case scenario she was an opportunistic thief expecting to find the place empty who had been lucky enough to find and exploit a weakness in the security systems. The fact that she turned up within hours of Lady P warning me about reporters gunning for me about the lack of my Father's presence, however, gave me cause for concern  
I know how seriously some of these paparazzi take their scoops, but they generally just harass as you exit a lift or a car ... exploding into your kitchen was new. All the same, if there was a time to err on the side of caution this was it.

With that in mind, I didn't hesitate longer. Before the woman could fully get to her feet, i got to her, slamming her up against the wall with my arm across her shoulders. My intent was to control her long enough to find out what she was doing here while providing just enough physical intimidation to get her to tell me.

But she had other ideas. Her head reared back, then quickly slammed forward in a move intended to jam the cartilage of my nose up into my brain. I barely managed to avoid the blow while also fending off what she was trying to do to my privates and the rest of me.

Any lingering doubt of how to deal with her vanished. As far as I was concerned she was the person in the wrong and all I was doing was defending myself. If she wanted to fight dirty, fine by me.

To that end I maneuvered and pressed my forearm against her throat to let her know i was serious and growled out " _Quit it!_ "

I was using my chest to keep her trapped up against the wall. One of my thighs wedged between hers. Red blooded nature that I am i couldn't help noticing that she was all long legs, slim waist, full... _control yourself Tracy_.

That was distracting but I still had enough sense to know that my first priority had to be securing any weapons she might be carrying. Still, as I moved my hand over her, feeling for a gun or knife, I may have lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary.

Her breath started coming in shallow little pants that I associate with a different kind of physical activity. That definitely didn't help the situation. Nor did the fact that she was still struggling, so much so that the softness of her flat, smooth abdomen kept rubbing against my groin.

Okay, maybe I should have got dressed after my shower. The towel wrapped around my hips, and it wasn't exactly much of a barrier between us. It sure as hell didn't conceal the fact that I was suddenly getting … _aroused_ ???

Now that was just downright disturbing. I prefer my women more compliant ... wrong word, co-operative ... purring under my hands and begging for more. Trying to crush my balls and rip my eyes out just doesn't do it for me. Still, the truth was that I was becoming aroused for reasons I didn't care to explain – the caveman stuff of controlling the furious wildcat in my arms and bending her to my will was definitely not my usual style.

I was trying to sort out that while coming to terms with the fact that she wasn't armed when a shudder ran through her and she suddenly went limp.

_SHIT!_

I yanked my arm from her throat and caught her as she started to slide down to the ground. Holding her I stared down in shock. Okay, okay, I know you can knock someone out by obstructing their breathing but shit I didn't think I'd been putting that much pressure on her. I was relieved on checking her pulse and breathing, it was strong so she was only unconscious. I sure as hell hadn't intended to take it that far, no matter how much her trying to hurt me.

Scooping her up, I carried her to the living area and laid her on the couch.

Something about her was familiar, and I couldn't help noticing my earlier impression that she was damned attractive wasn't mistaken. From the long silky strands tumbling loose from the hair clip to the slim ankles she was the stuff of dreams ... wet ones at that. Gorgeous long eyelashes, naturally so at that ... sweet lord that mouth, full, soft, the perfect shade of pink, I could easily imagine it wrapped around my --

Okay, Scott stop it... it's official ... you're a sick bastard. Here she is lying unconscious and all you can think of is ...

_*breath*_

... my thinking _WAS_ that I had a good opportunity to try and find out who she was before she came to. But first, I didn't want to risk the chance that she'd wake up suddenly and try to run, or worse inflict me some serious bodily harm which I might at this moment actually deserve. That is how I justified my next action. Scanning the room, unthreading the tiebacks from the drapes and using them to tie her hands and feet together.

Looking down at the thick cord secured around her pale skin I was shocked - yet again - that my lower half made himself known again. Yes, I'd played bondage games with willing partners who were inclined that way, and actually enjoyed both the dominant and the submitting control sides of it, but this was real and definitely not a game.  
Checking her breathing again it was slower and deeper, a lot closer to normal, so I'd best be quick.

An array of items were spilled over the dumb waiter and pantry floor. A pair of flat shoes, a purse which had spilled a set of keys, a makeup compact and a couple of cards.  
Nothing photographic, credit card with the name Emeline Phillips, a medical card, she was 24, willing to be an organ donor, O positive, mild corrective lenses, living at ...

Emeline Phillips? 

Emeline? _EMMY PHILLIPS!_

Was this the young woman who a few years back had been snipping at our family heels? She'd been the trainee wannabe of the reporter who'd been chasing Gordon around right after the Olympics. The stories about him had been completely discredited and suddenly this girl had been found in some compromising position and her boss had mysteriously disappeared ... I'd always wondered if Dad had had a hand in that.

But, _THAT_ Emmy Phillips.

Well, things are getting interesting. Not such a boring business trip after all.

A thoughtful, knowing smile grew on my face as I wondered why this junior parasite that had loved to hate our family had walked ... well tumbled ... back into our lives. 


	2. Emeline Phillips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From another perspective.

"Fine. Go. Just don't get yourself arrested. If you do, it will be nothing to do with The Scoop, you will be working off your own back, and we'll deny all knowledge. Make sure you come back with something juicy and we'll maybe see about upping your privileges"

Yes, I KNOW that means bring back gossip or be reduced to tea maker... PFFT, glorified tea maker ... in fact not even glorified.

Straight from school me had really thought I'd lucked out working under Vincent Trenton, THE big investigative journalist name. I thought we were finding out the truth.Bringing the big bad guys to justice. Really it had been treated like crap while being fed the excuse of doing you a favour, and helping you get a foot on the ladder. 

How wrong was I? That all went arse-over-tit when the big man had disappeared and I was left as the story scapegoat.

It had brought me back to earth with a thud when I realised that the all boys and bitches club was only into seedy stories and glorified headlines. They made me part of the headlines when Trenton suddenly vanished. I mean, seriously though. "Vincent Trenton" was such a supercilious name and yet no-one had heard from him since. There was a convenient anonymous tip that suggested that him and I were... eeeewww no, it doesn't even bear thinking about that.

Anyway, NO, we were not, but all it takes is one small whisper and the young girl who is a victim of circumstance has her reputation dragged through the dirt. I know full well how it works... I had actually done it myself a couple of times. I would have had second thought had I known what it felt like.

The police didn't seem to care, but then Trenton had made as many enemies among the force as he had with the less legal types. They poked a few questions and then nothing. The mysterious anonymous tip apparently couldn't be followed up. So the police released me. My male cohort didn't have his wicked way, but he had disappeared into the ether, never to be found again. Lucky for him, cos I would have murdered him and happily done the time.

In fact if I HAD I'd probably have been released on good behaviour by now and the world would have been clamouring for MY story.

Those headlines had been the end of my embryonic career, or so it seemed. Even after laying low for a couple of years no-one wanted to have anything to do with me. They saw the name Emmy Phillips, with the only job reference of "Vincent Trenton" and threw the CV in the trash. Not just the journalists ... even getting a waitress job had been impossible after having your face and plastered over the front pages along with that lying scum. I knew there was a story there, but as a scared-for-your-own-life kid... ' cos I basically was still just a kid ... you sometimes just run.

And that is what I had done, back home to mum and grandma in a sleepy quiet town. I'd been surprised the press didn't follow after the hounding they'd given me ... another mysterious twist that I frankly was relieved about and pushed it to the back of my mind

Being a nosy git was the only thing I was really good at, and finally got a junior job with The Scoop expose magazine. In this case I think my past history actually helped as the editor had questionable standards when it came to getting stories. But it was a job. Then a side company related to Tracy Industries just happened to have been buying old properties and renovating them, and conveniently my Mother and I had lived on the middle floor of one of these just after my Dad died. I'd only been a child back then. Below us lived an old gent who had about twenty cats, and above was a creepy old lady.

My job at The Scoop was my first and possibly only current shot at a job that didn't involve a pole, stilettos, and a bunch of drunk guys leering at my crotch.

I skimmed around the back alley. The rear fire escape door was solidly closed, as it should be but I had to check the easy way. Plan B was the small window to the basement. The wooden frame was rotten and seemingly had been missed in the revamp. As I tapped it with my toe the wood disintegrated and the glass toppled onto the mossy ground ...

_Oops._

I'd remembered the window being much bigger than it now seemed, But surely I could wriggle through.

********

I dropped to the floor in the darkened basement, the light from the now windowless hole in the wall let in just enough light as my eyes adjusted. I could see the door to the ground floor high up on the wall. Or rather what was a bricked up door space. Bugger. It looked like I was going to have to use the the other way. Time for plan C.  
Using my phone for extra light I tip-toed my way through the damp, dust, and spiders to metal shelf unit against the wall. Stacked with rusted on paint pots, and crumbling cardboard boxes made it a precarious move but ...

_Yes!_

Hidden behind the shelf rack was the double doors to the relic-of-bygone-days of a dumb waiter. The wooden box and cable still looked intact, but looking at it closely i frowned. At under 3 by 3 feet the opening was much smaller than i remembered it ... okay, so the last time I'd used it I was 7, so like the window I probably should have expected that.

Back then i'd done it as a dare. Imagine a 7 year old child inside a dusty box, pitch black, with the darkness magnifying every sound of the creaking and grinding. The damp musty smells assaulting my nose. Travelling up the narrow drafty tower that ran the full height of the building ... I had been TERRIFIED! It was still etched into my memories like it had only happened yesterday. I actually didn't know whether to be proud of my young self or chiding her for being so stupid.

Studying my ambitious scheme indecisively I knew it was going to be a tight squeeze. I removed my shoes and purse and placed them in the bottom. Hitched up my skirt and using the shelving unit as steps scrambled in, squeezing my butt in first, then wriggling in my legs and head just leaving my arm free to press the button on the side.

I leaned to press the button, and the box started rising. As it shuddered my phone tumbled out onto the floor of the cellar, but it was too late to stop.

Second thoughts floored me... Oh God! What happens if i cant open at the top? Or if it stalls and no-one can find me. I had no way to communicate with the outside world. Hours or days could pass before anyone even knew I was missing. The sensible part of my brain screamed at me to get out and walk away.

Then images of unemployment, poles, sequinned knickers and sweaty braying males flashed.

NO, I could do this. I had to.

The trip up was more stomach flipping than i remembered. My imagination leaped with every second. What if i got trapped? Days dying of thirst, squashed and trapped with every muscle aching with cramp. Oh God! What if the cable snapped? Plummeting all those meters and shattering at the bottom in a pile of splintered wood, broken bones and splattered intestines?

My plan was insane. I know that. If i got out of this alive I needed to see a shrink... except... oh, right, I couldn't afford the private care without the health insurance that came with the job, and if I didn't follow through with this there was no job.

By the time the dumb waiter squeaked to a halt I was almost in full blown hyperventilating panic attack. I fumbled around in the pitch black at the doors... they were perfectly smooth with no handles. Which in hindsight made perfect sense as no human was meant to opening these from the INside.

I found the center line and braced my palms either side as I pushed apart as hard as I could. They barely gave a hairs breadth and a tiny chink of light was broken by something in the middle on the other side. Of course, there would be a catch keeping them closed. I took a deep breath a pushed harder. The doors gave a tiny bit more.  
At this point my patience snapped, one more second in there and i would go insane. I shoved with my shoulder as hard as i could. Which is apparently much stronger than I thought as the doors exploded open and I unceremoniously rolled out head first. Instinctively I put my hands out to stop myself hitting the floor as my legs crumpled down on top me.

I held my breath for a second, dazed, to double check nothing was broken.

I was getting to my feet when out of the corner of my eye i saw a flicker of movement...

In a second I registered a dark haired male, and _naked_??? No, not quite, a towel, strong shoulders, sculpted abs and pecs, just before he brutally pinned me to the wall I noticed the thunderous look in ice blue eyes. OH crap, the apartment was supposed to be empty!

I tried to scream, but I could barely even draw in the breath that was knocked out of me falling onto the floor and now here I was pinned immobile to the wall.

Adrenaline roared thru every cell in my body, instinct kicked it and I began to struggle in earnest.

He had at least a foot in height and about 50 or 60 muscled pounds of weight on me but I wasn't going to go down without a fight. In panic and desperation I tried to get a hand free to loosed his arm grip, while doing my damnest to ram my knee in his groin as I slammed my forehead towards the bridge of his nose.

He just managed to dodge out of the way, and tightened his hold.

" _Quit it!_ " he growled

His other hand brazenly moved over my body, between my breasts, along my sides... SHIT! Into the gap between my thighs and down each leg. His touch was beyond insolent and he manhandled me as if he had every right to do so.

But that was nothing compared to the shock when I realised it was also pretty arousing. Admittedly that department had been rather lacking recently (unless you count the battery operated variety), but being in a terrifying situation AND that thought pushed me over my limits and the panic attack that was simmering away suddenly hit.

Blackness swirled at the edge of my vision. I was distantly aware of him loosening his grip slightly and a muffled " _Shit!_ " as the darkness overwhelmed me.


	3. After the "fall"

My eyes flew open. Shocked back to consciousness by the sense that something was very wrong. My eyes focused on the two story high ceiling. The ornate cornicing of oak leaves and acorns was still there... "period feature" they call it ... home for generations of spiders in reality. I remember dropping into the crazy old lady's floor and it was dark and musty, this was bright and airy. As i tried to sit up i noticed my hands and feet were tied.

A sickening bolt of fear went through me. Not the same feeling as the one in the shaft. That was a fear of what my own actions could do to me. This was from what harm someone else could do to me, someone i wasn't physically strong enough to stop, the same one that lead to my blackout.

It was him wasn't it? It was the oldest Tracy that had pinned her against the wall the greek godlike definition in only a towel ... with an epic hard-on.

_Oh crap!_

Right, I need to get out of here. With no alternative I sank my teeth into the material around my wrists and started trying to work it loose. I hadn't gotten very far when I realised I wasn't alone any more by a cough behind me. I wriggled to strain my head back and round to the noise.

The towel had been replaced with jeans and a blue shirt ... pity ... and worse yet mother nature hadn't stopped her generosity with his physique. Sculpted mouth, chocolate brown hair and shockingly blue eyes... sheesh he was too damn gorgeous for it to be legal.

As if he knew exactly what I was thinking those eyes flashed amusement as he was leaning against the kitchen island observing my efforts to free myself.

"Having any luck there Miss Phillips?"

_Crap on top of crap_. He knew who I was. Even if I got away he could identify me to the police. But before I worried about that my bigger concern was right at this moment. He looked relaxed but I couldn't tell if the look in his eye was humour or predator.

I'd eventually gotten pretty good at reading people... other than one blaringly obvious and public faux pas. In the hack news domain it was a survival skill, at least it had been until I'd been completely played the fool of and been made the fallguy.

But this one I couldn't quite make out yet. I took a deep breath and out to stave off the horizon of panic threatening again and lowered my wrists to my lap, hoping that he'd take that as a sign of acquiescence and be, at least temporarily, placated.

"So, Mr Tracy right? What's next?"

"Guilty, but we can stick with Scott ... _MR_ Tracy is my Father."

I swung my restrained legs off the edge of the couch and wiggled myself upright, accompanied by some not very well held in snickering snorts from my captor.

I sat poker straight, teetering on the edge, feet flat to the floor, trying to look confident and calm. "Yes, about your Father..." and looked him directly in the eye.

I'd studied all the sparse interviews and exposes on Jefferson Tracy and his offspring. Trenton had been pursuing what they were actually up to on the side when he had been brought down, and being his junior I was lumped in the same boat. After that no-one talked to me, but I still had a gut gnawing that they HAD to be up to something. Seriously, a man of the skill, standing and money like Jeff Tracy didn't just pack up one day and move to a tropical island, taking his 5 sons with him and just play out the rest of their lives living in peaceful luxury. Someone as insightful in the world of business and technology as Jeff Tracy didn't just leave all the groundswork to his juniors and just sign the authorisation papers next to the "X". He was just too hands on for that. And those boys of his, sightings did happen but were once in a blue moon events. A charity thing here, a corporate thing there.

Recently tho there had been talk as no-one could recall seeing Mr Tracy in the flesh for several months.

This one, the oldest, sometimes seen testing flight machines for TI, seemed to be the most likely to show at things, the strawberry blond one (I refuse to say redhead when I have true red celtic relatives, and he is a pale comparison) showed at the odd astronomy nerd gathering and wrote papers that went WAY over the top of my head, the dark haired beefcake had been seen at a couple of highbrow art and theater things accompanying young Lady Creighton-Ward, but you could tell by body language nothing was happening there. The youngest was so rare to see he was almost a myth.

In fact the only one that had given any worthwhile stories years ago, was the olympic swimmer one. He had been pictured in various states of drunkeness, and a few well spindoctor denials of the kiss and tell stories that had surfaced in the months following his gold medal win. He also had been living like a hermit for the past maybe year, or so it seemed.

SO, in the actual physical presence of one of them, even if inwardly shaking like a leaf ... I HAD to try and get something. After all this COULD be my one chance to get back to the big leagues by getting an exclusive ... right???

I'd seen pictures and interviews but never actually expected to see him in the flesh, in more ways that one, or have him pressed to intimately against me.

He ignored my question, but crossed the space between us in a few easy strides. I resisted the urge to pull back and instead demanded "Why am i tied up?"

He crouched down in front of me so we were more or less on eye level. I forced myself to stay still and mentally chastised myself for behaving a bit like a small animal in front of a predator, not knowing if I was about to be played with or eaten. I was tougher than that.

"I wanted to make sure you stayed long enough for us to talk. And, " he added with a slight quirk of his mouth, "I'd prefer it if you didn't try to do me any bodily harm. Deal."   
All those hours spent in self defense classes for women and he didn't even seem perturbed. It put that whole concept into perspective. Even so I felt the ballsy confident edge was the way to go and shoved my bound wrists forward.

"Sure thing flyboy, I'll go easy on you."

A flicker of a grin as his fingers made short work of the knot I'd been unable to budge.

"Would you like some water?" The tone of consideration seemed to come from nowhere and surprised me. I shook my head, "No, no thank you"

To my relief he moved away and sat in the chair opposite, leaving me to untie my ankles. I straightened up, hoping just to be able to get through this unscaved and get out of here. After that I had no idea, but first things first.

"So Mr Tr... _Scott._.. what did you want to talk about?" I asked

"Well to start with, I'm truly sorry you passed out. I didn't realise I'd put so much pressure on you."

His expression was suddenly so bleak and self-condemning that I answered without thought.

"You weren't totally to blame. It was... brought on by a variety of circumstances." I couldn't very well say a panic attack, even though he'd likely guessed that. So I just shrugged. "You were not responsible."

He looked at me speculatively. I could almost see the cogs grinding, trying to figure out whether to believe me or not. Our gazes met and held. I refused to back down.

After a thoughtful moment, he nodded. "All right."

Any gratitude from my relieving him of responsibility vanished in an instant and his voice hardened. "Why don't we start with why you were breaking into my apartment and what you intended to do while you were here?"

I remembered my less than dignified entrance and what the consequences might be "I'm sorry about the doors. I'll pay to get them repaired obviously, Not sure what i'll pawn to do so, but needs must.

"Forget it, that doesn't matter. Why are you here?"

I couldn't dodge the truth much longer, and the hint of menace in those last 4 words led me to believe honesty really was the best policy.

"I work for the The Scoop... " he couldn't hide the flash of irritation at the name of the rag, "that is i started there today. I blagged my case knowing that your family had bought and revamped a lot of the property, and having past history living in this building ... " a look of realisation, "and a tenuous link to reports from a few years ago concerning your family ... ", flash back to irritation, "kind of got me the job."

"And that witch at The Scoop told you to break in?" The look on his face made me worry for her safety if he thought it was her.

"No, that was all me..." I broke eye contact, I had known it was a stupid idea from the start, but now even more so. "I was to interview neighbours and residents and see if there was anything known. Tracy Industries makes it well known about generous compensation and sorting out the ex-residents of anywhere you revamp, so I'd hoped maybe knowing some of the people in here over the years, MAYBE get a forwarding address or something from a new resident or ... anyway, I thought if i could maybe get some photos or something..." I suddenly remembered and dropped my head into my hands. "My phone is in the cellar."

"You thought she'd be impressed and you'd keep your job"

"Yeah, something like that. Except you're here and ... well now i'm probably going to jail instead."

He was smirking. The bastard was enjoying himself at my expense.

"And your knowledge of your makeshift elevator?"

"7 years old ... bet by my best friend ... it wasn't quite as cramped back then though."

I looked up and my eye caught the light "Speaking of which I'm impressed you kept the old fittings. That same ceiling rose was on our floor too. I remember the bowls of peaches always looked like mini bottoms to me

"What made you pursue a career in journalism?"

The question threw me. I'd gone from intimate closeness, to tied up, to... what exactly? It sounded like HE was interviewing ME. After several failed job interviews I had the spiel down to a T but as I took a deep breath to reel off it suddenly seemed so contrived. I paused then sighed "You know... I'm really not sure any more. I wanted to go out and find the truth and tell the little person and out the big money man who was swindling those less wealthy ... but now I know that they are all sharks in a small pond, biting at each other and fighting for the big sensation. None of them REALLY want the TRUTH, as that doesn't sell. But then you know my name, you know what I do..." I looked him directly in the eye and added with a bitter tone ..." and i'm pretty darned sure you know my history."

"So why stay in it"

"For the truth, although jobs are not exactly easy to come by when the only name on your CV was the most hated reporter in the world."

"I know of him, not you. What Vincent Trenton did was swindle money, wreck marriages, wreck lives ... he got people killed, indirectly maybe, but still... the man should be rotting in prison, but instead he disappeared and got off free."

"That's a funny way of putting it. He disappeared without a trace. Nothing. No cards used, no phone, took nothing with him ... not even , god forbid, a body to know what actually happened. No, he vanished and the pack turned on me. Do you know what it's like having the whole world baying for your neck, expecting you to give them more than you have?"

He looked at the floor and cryptically said "more than you might know" then directly at me again "I suppose if the latter had happened then there would at least have been some closure. I can't feel sorry for him, not after the way he treated my brother. But that was him, not you. You were just doing what you thought was right. You shouldn't have had to endure the indignities that were flung at you also."

Still studying me he stood, proud and straight, a formidable presence... perhaps even more so than his father ... completely at ease with himself and the situation. His eyes flicked down the length of my body. I stiffened against a sensation of intimacy so acute that if felt as though I had actually been touched.

"You can go now Miss Phillips. You may want to dust yourself off as well". I finally became aware of the grime and spiderwebs stuck to my clothing.

I rose, all too aware that my legs felt like jelly. Absurdly I felt a sudden spurt of disappointment.

"I'll send you a check for the damages." oh, come on Em that was lame. He'd already said that, leave it before he changes his mind. But I was so taken aback by my sudden reprieve and dismissal and my strange reaction to that was i was pretty much lost for words.

He nodded, not taking his eyes off me. "Don't worry about that," and handed me my flats and purse. I slipped my shoes quickly onto my feet. As I did he reached into his back pocket and brought out a card.

"My business number is on here," he said as he held it out it me, "We should do this again, but next time starting more civilly if you don't mind." A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth, as he opened the door. "Maybe we could do each other some favours."

I stared at him as heat crept up over my throat and face. The slight head tilt and raised eyebrow added a flirtatious hint to the many meanings of that last slowly drawled sentence. He was so damned confident in himself, an infuriating, but admittedly attractive quality.

"Give The Scoop my dues. Till next time Miss Phillips"

I just nodded my acknowledgement, as i made my way over the threshold. the smartest thing was to escape while I could. Thankfully he didnt insist I left the way I'd entered. Resisting the urge to glace back over my shoulder I walked just slowly enough to not be running towards the real lift. Impressed again that they'd kept the old feature, but thankful that it looked completely refurbished.

I barely had time to take it in before I realised he was right behind me. Reaching around me he pressed the button to call the lift. We waited in silence and I glanced up sideways to find him looking at me, maybe thoughtful, maybe puzzled, I just cant work him out... and the arrival of the lift made me start.

As the doors slid shut, he was still staring at me, those blue eyes, impenetrable shields concealing his true thoughts. 


	4. An Offer

" _JEEZUZCHRISTPHILLIPS !!!_ Could you not have just opened your legs and got a story??? That's why we hired you after all. But _NOOOOO_... you had to go and break in. If fact you know what... just get out... NO, no buts, get your stuff and fuck off."

This was why I was now standing outside the doors to The Scoops offices, handbag stuffed with a photo frame of my parents and the crappy wobbling yellow flower air freshener clutched in my fist, trying not to break into floods, when a limo pulled up directly in front of me.

The driver got out and opened the passenger door to reveal the smarmy git with his illegally blue eyes and cute smile … and it was all his bloody fault !!!

"Miss Phillips, we meet again. Can I offer you a lift somewhere?"

"Look Mr Tracy" I seethed, then took a breath and realised what was the point, and lowered my tone to one of defeat. "Scott, or whatever... just go away will you, please. Your family has been nothing but really shitty luck for me and frankly all I need now if for a bird to crap on me and the day will be complete. Thank you very much."

At that exact moment the heavens opened and rain pelted down. 

"See... SEE!!!" I motioned the plastic flower to the sky, " Not a bird but bloody well close enough."

The cheshire cat grin from the car flickered into one of concern as the rivulets ran down her from the fringe now sticking to my forehead.

"Emmy, please get in."

It was one of those requests that really meant I wont take no. Well, why not take advantage, get to the train semi dry. I flopped into the back seat beside in like a soggy petulant teenager.

"I go by Emeline or Lina now."

"Noted. Here, I think you left this." I nodded my thanks as he handed me my phone. Grateful I checked it over, and as I did I heard him tell his driver my address.

"Hey, how'd you know... Oh." I closed my mouth in embarrassment. This maybe wasn't my WORST day ever, but pretty close.

"So Miss Phillips. Shall we start again?" I noticed his tone had gone back to business, as he proffered his hand. "Mr Tracy, but please call me Scott. I believe we can be of benefit to each other. Let me make you an offer..."

******

The scale of the building was beyond anything Emeline had ever encountered before. She had arrived much earlier than required, so as to orientate herself, but now felt that she could never navigate a place like this. Even at this early hour there was people everywhere, milling about with briefcases swinging liberally so as to deter anyone coming too close. She must have circumnavigated the ground floor several times like an erstwhile Columbus before she found the floor directory and the offices she sought.

As the elevator ascended, yes, a proper lift this time, she allowed herself to check her appearance in the mirrored walls one last time before she disembarked. She observed herself shyly in her new suit, looking sleek and more assured than she felt in her reflection. Her hair was tied in a bun, propped defiantly on top of her head. The jacket cut slimmed her waist, the hourglass effect should have given her more confidence, but her nervousness made a little pit in her stomach. She hoped that it was not visible in her appearance. Still, she felt she looked better than she ever had. Once the elevator stopped, she approached the receptionist directly in front of her.

"Hi, my name is Emeline Phillips. I have an appointment to see Mr Tracy."

The receptionist regarded her coolly, her eyes peering over thick framed glasses. She was considerably older, with a tight mean mouth. Her eyes were magnified by the lenses, bug like in their intensity.

"Which one."

"I ... I'm sorry?"

"Which Mr Tracy?"

"Scott."

The receptionist sighed. She punched a few numbers into the phone beside her.

"Hello. I have an Emeline Phillips here to see Mr Tracy ... yes, yes she is... yes a pretty thing .... Ok, I'll send her through."

Emily felt the colour rise in her cheeks as the receptionist spoke.

"Through the door at the end of the hall."

Lina turned in the direction indicated. The receptionist had one final comment.

"And a touch more lipstick wouldn't go amiss around here girl."

*****

"This is a very high-level job, do you understand? In order to be successful here, Miss Phillips, you must be trusted to be able to do ... just about anything?" His voice curled round that last word with an insinuation that made Emmy slightly uncomfortable.

BUT, she needed this job and she was going to play nice.

The hair at his temples had a couple of strands of grey, giving a very distinguished look. Yet, the blue eyes sparkled with an almost boyish nature. The suit-jacket and tight white shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide the slim, toned physique.

She could not deny that the man had charisma and a handsome, yet devilish charm, but Emmy felt she was coursing towards completely uncharted waters. Her chest rose and fell with a cadence that seemed far slower than it should have been, considering the rate at which her heart was pulsing.

That one word 'anything', said in that tone, suggested so much. They were quiet for far too long. In the seconds that had ticked by since his comment was spoken, a lot had gone inside Emelines head and she wasn't quite sure whether she wanted to respond to what he said, or if the unbidden thoughts swirling around her brain had confused her mind.

She wanted to ask exactly what her meant by his previous comment, and in any other time she most certainly would have asked. However, because of who she was talking to and in the fact she didn't want him to have a clue of what buzzed thought her head at his gaze, she decided against that question.

Instead she smiled, hoping that her eyes and expression matched her words. "Yes," she answered, "Whatever it takes."

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, a slight twitch of a smile. "Because dealing with the press, as you well know yourself, can be extremely stressful and to keep us from jumping off the roof, we need to be able to keep things interesting."

Again Lina nodded, feeling her stomach twist uncomfortably, even tho she tried her best not to let her discomfort show. "I understand."

"Well, I'm a believer in actions speak louder than words, and having seen your actions at first hand... and while it was certainly surprising, it was also impressive thinking."  
In any other situation, she would have felt her cheeks colouring at the mention of their previous encounter, but she knew for this to work, she needed to give an Oscar-winning performance. She straightened her spine, shoulders back in an effort to give her statement more credibility, "I'm sure I'm up to the challenge."

His eyes flickered briefly to her chest, but only for a millisecond, a lesser poker player would have missed the tell. Her top button threatened to pop at the extra strain of her pose.

He pressed a button on his desk, and spoke to the female voice that answered. "Could you show Miss Phillips to her new office, thank you." _*right away Mr Tracy*._

"There is a non-disclosure agreement on the desk, along with a detailed outline describing what we will be expecting of you. Read it carefully, sign it, and then we'll talk again."

He motioned his hand towards the door in dismissal.

As she stood to leave, Lina wasn't sure what to think. In a way, she could not wait to get out of the room which seemed to be filled with the testosterone she expected. However, there was a part of her drawn to find out more about this attractive conundrum of a man.

She stood up with purpose and smoothed her skirt with her palms before tugging the jacket back into place, knowing the lines complimented her curves, before shaking his hand and turning around, feeling his eyes drilling into her back as she left.

****

As the door closed Scott blew out the breath he was holding. He knew was playing with fire, but this one was interesting. Better to have on their payroll than anyone elses.

And Christ did she have a great ass.


End file.
